


A Collection of Nevers

by aegistheia



Category: Super Junior, Super Junior-M
Genre: Character Study, Gen, M/M, Mostly Gen, Other, body image issues, essentially OT15, rarepairs, religious discussions, well it's half Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 11:08:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 11,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2107584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aegistheia/pseuds/aegistheia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every member has his own quirks.  Even in intimacy.  Especially in intimacy.  A collection of vignettes about Super Junior members.</p>
<p>Pairings, ratings, and summaries can be found within individual chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gateway to Nirvana [Hankyung/Henry, PG-13]

**Author's Note:**

> This started as an exercise in writing short stories (read: less than 1000 words) that quickly spiralled out of control and ended up taking me the better parts of two years and a falling out of K-Pop fandom to complete. One day I will conquer the beast that is quick writing. Today is definitively not the day.
> 
> Fun facts: this entire exercise started and ended with Ryeowook. Also, it really is essentially OT15, in which I mean they all belong together in some way or other. In my head these are all meant to be pre-December 20, 2009, but they aren’t all so strictly time-stamped.
> 
> **Also Archived On:** [Livejournal](http://aegiscrypt.livejournal.com/8328.html); [Dreamwidth](http://aegiscrypt.dreamwidth.org/8442.html).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PG-13 for mentions of drug use. [Hankyung/Henry] It occurs to Henry, a little belatedly, that he might be in over his head.

“Ge, can I ask you a personal question?”

Han Geng glances over, fingers idle on his cigarette as he leans out the window. The moon is brilliant tonight, enough for them to be able to leave the lights off in the dorm, enough to overpower the yellow cast of the street lamps and wash them pale. Han Geng tilts his head, and Henry takes it as mute acquiescence.

“How long— wait. For how long have you been smoking?”

“Hmm?” Han Geng looks at the burning stick thoughtfully. “Years. Almost a decade, maybe? Give or take. Are we talking about chronic smoking, or first-time-trying-it kind of thing?”

“I— don’t know? I was just curious. Does it matter?”

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you,” Han Geng says, looking far too inclined to smirk for Henry to be strictly comfortable. He exhales a thin grey plume. “Let me guess. While you were in Canada you’d never smoked, never tried alcohol, much less drugs, and never had sex without a proper date first.”

“Ge!”

“Am I right?”

“No,” Henry says, and feels his cheeks alight. “Well, not entirely.”

Han Geng laughs and takes a drag before ashing the half-finished cigarette in the bowl at his elbow. He shuts the window and— and _stalks_ towards Henry. “Where was I wrong?”

“I’ve had vodka,” he says, or thinks he says, because most of his brain is freezing up in slowly mounting panic at the predatory roll in Han Geng’s gait. “And beer. Some mixes. Coolers.”

“That’s it?” Han Geng purrs. Something thumps against Henry’s calves, and he sits down before he realizes that he’s backed himself into the couch. Wait, he was backing away?

When he looks up Han Geng is a vortex in the middle of the living room, dark and slender and amused, and Henry can’t look away. “Was that all that I hadn’t gotten right?”

“I’ve tried marijuana once,” Henry says feebly.

Han Geng cocks his head. “Mari-what?”

Crap, is he speaking in English? “I don’t know its Chinese name. Uh. Seven-pointed leaf?” Henry tries air-drawing it, but he probably just looks octopus-like, so he stops and tries miming instead. “You roll your own, um, smoking sticks with it—”

“Ah. _Dai ma_.” The liquid curl of unfamiliar syllables on Han Geng’s tongue makes Henry shiver. “That’s nothing strong.”

Henry shrugs, for a lack of things to say. It was pretty nasty tasting stuff, though.

Then Han Geng smiles again, and his eyes somehow grow darker than all the shadows in the room. He hadn’t moved. “So you’ve never smoked, and you never had sex without a date first.”

Henry shrugs again, but this time it feels more like a jerk than anything. His mouth is dry.

Han Geng turns to glance into the kitchen; the entire move is sinuous, melting grace against the stark silver light. “Manager-hyung’s back with his family tonight,” he says casually. “And I don’t think Heechul and Jay and Jungmo are coming back soon. They usually stay out all night to party together when they can get away with it, don’t they?”

“Yeah,” Henry croaks, then coughs.

Han Geng chuckles, and to Henry’s addled brain even the sound slides like silk across his ears. Tomorrow Henry’s going to have his head checked. “I haven’t taken you out on a date before,” Han Geng purrs, “have I?”

“What—?” The words die on his tongue when he realizes that Han Geng is close. Too close. His eyes could eat the night.

“I’m not a cigarette, but this will be close enough of a taste,” Han Geng murmurs, threading fingers through the hair on the back of Henry’s head, and reels him in.


	2. Prioritizing [Kangin/Kyuhyun, PG-13]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PG-13 for suggestive situations and language. [Kangin/Kyuhyun] There are many, many things that Youngwoon should have kept in mind.

Youngwoon should have remembered that Kyuhyun is the only one amongst them all who refuses to give blowjobs before starting this.

“What gives?” he demands, because while he knows tact, he is also painfully horny right now. “I mean, I’m not picky or anything, but isn’t your mouth a better option than your ass right now? We have to dance in less than an hour.”

Kyuhyun stares at him. The moment of silence is almost enough for Youngwoon to realize how utterly ridiculous the situation could look, with Kyuhyun half-undressed in a deserted change room and he still mostly in costume save for his unbuttoned pants.

“You’re complaining about getting laid just before going onstage,” Kyuhyun says, his incredulity landing Youngwoon back into the current situation with a jolt.

And Youngwoon really isn’t picky at all. But he likes blowjobs (and handjobs, if they weren’t both so damn turned on), and— “I’m not complaining,” Youngwoon snaps, “I’m looking out for your ass.”

Kyuhyun looks away, pretty lips thinning. “My contribution to this band is through my voice. I can’t risk ruining it.”

Youngwoon stares. “What the fuck, that just means you have bad technique.”

Kyuhyun frowns quellingly. “Jongwoon-hyung is hoarse all the time.”

“He has bad technique too,” Youngwoon retorts. “And he _smokes_. You think he’s hoarse all the time because he’d suck people off before he sings?”

Kyuhyun flushes a dull red, and, well, fuck. Sometimes he really should just let his dick do the thinking and get the important things done with. “Look,” Youngwoon sighs, refastening his pants with a silent apology to his screaming erection and a promise to whack off the moment after he drops the dongsaeng off at the proper greenroom, “Never mind. Just— fuck. Come here.”

Kyuhyun shuffles over. Youngwoon loops an arm around his stiff shoulders. “I’ll teach you later if you want to learn, okay? I didn’t mean to push.”

...perhaps he should get Jungsu to teach him instead. After a beat, Youngwoon adds, “Besides, it’s not the voice that usually gets achy, it’s the jaw and neck.”

Kyuhyun’s shoulders hunch in further and Youngwoon wants to kick something. Preferably himself. “I really should learn to shut up while I’m ahead,” he grumbles. “Okay, moment’s over, go get your pants and underwaugh—?!”

Kyuhyun glares mulishly as Youngwoon just gapes, one hand clamped around Kyuhyun’s wrists through sheer reflex. His reflexes have always been remarkably more diligent about the area around his groin and seriously, what the hell?

“What did you say?” he manages, too taken off guard to have caught even the tail of Kyuhyun’s sentence.

“I said, make it up to me,” Kyuhyun repeats, the blush slowly working its way down his throat and hands stubbornly keeping near Youngwoon’s crotch. “I can’t very well sing with a hard-on, much less dance anyway. Make it worthwhile for me.” His eyes drop and the blush reaches his collarbone. “Please.”

One eyebrow had been making its way up to Youngwoon’s hairline as Kyuhyun had continued, but by the end the corners of his mouth are following. “Now that’s spirit,” Youngwoon says approvingly, and pushes Kyuhyun down onto the floor.


	3. Conformation [Kibum/Ryeowook, R]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> R for sexual situations. [Kibum/Ryeowook] Kibum’s not the type to put quantitative values on these kinds of things. Warning for body image issues.

For a guy about to get laid, Ryeowook looks really, really anxious.

“There’s no pressure,” Kibum says, mindful to keep his voice soft. “Ryeowook-ah.”

Ryeowook shivers. “It’s not— you. I’m just... nervous.” He looks caught between the urge to cover his body and the urge to pretend that puzzling things out together while mostly naked in Kibum’s room is a regular occurrence.

Then again, Ryeowook has been learning by nothing but example and hard work and sheer steel-minded determination so far, so he might as well have mercy. Kibum unfastens his pants, steps out of his underwear, and strolls across the room. He pats the space beside him expectantly as he drops onto the bed.

Ryeowook’s wide-eyed pause lasts only a beat before he obliges. Kibum mentally chalks him up another point for guts.

They sit facing each other for a long moment, just looking at each other. They’re both only half-hard, but that doesn’t matter. By the flush rising in Ryeowook’s cheeks Kibum can tell that he’s caught in the same scent-sound-touch recollection that he himself is right now.

“You look good,” Kibum says bluntly, because he likes the way Ryeowook’s skin is colouring, and because it’s true. He remembers that night very well, the way Ryeowook had clutched at his arms, whimpering into his shoulder, as they’d kneeled on the bed and Kibum’d reached between his legs. The way Ryeowook’s eyelashes had fanned across Kibum’s neck at the first touch, the way he’d shuddered and his fingers had tightened a fraction more. The way Ryeowook’s come had streaked his stomach, the way Kibum’s had striped his thighs, the way he’d glowed in the aftermath.

If a body could blush, Ryeowook’s is doing a credible attempt. “I don’t understand...” Visibly at a loss for words, he gestures at himself, caught between the cusp of industry-standard thinness and the lingering vestiges of his offstage childhood. The scars of his operations are still recent enough to flare red and sensitive against his pale skin.

Kibum shrugs. It’s not his place to give him answers to those types of questions. “I’ll walk you through if you want,” he says. “But there’s really not much you can do wrong. And I don’t mind if you experiment for a bit.”

“I meant—... okay.” Ryeowook straightens and lifts his chin. “Okay.”

Kibum stifles a chuckle; that’s sure to puncture Ryeowook’s mood. Instead, he pulls him close. “It’ll be okay,” he says gently, and doesn’t move again until Ryeowook finally moves himself.

Even if this current generation of Super Junior doesn’t stay together for long, there’s no reason to be unkind. More than anything, those nerves of steel will see Ryeowook through towards whatever end he may walk. And if things really do come down to separation... then this’ll have to suffice.


	4. Lost Boys [Sungmin + Zhou Mi, G]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> G. [Sungmin + Zhou Mi] Stranger circumstances have brought together stranger people.

“Zhou Mi-yah,” Sungmin calls. Frowns. “Zhou. Mi. Zh—”

“Yes?” Zhou Mi peeks around Sungmin’s doorframe inquisitively.

“I can’t get that to sound right. Z. Zh? Zhou.”

“Ah, those ones. They’re tricky. Can I—? Thank you.” Zhou Mi rearranges himself on Sungmin’s bed, a bundle of long lines and longer patience. “Remember to curl your tongue with the ones that— yeah, those need extra room in your mouth.”

Sungmin distorts his tongue into what feels like a gymnastic feat and pronounces some facsimile of Zhou Mi’s last name. He tilts his head back and sighs, swivelling a slow circle on the chair. “I don’t know how you do it, learning a foreign language to the extent that you could speak it fluently in such a short amount of time.”

“Immersion helps.” Zhou Mi smiles crookedly. “And Hankyung-hyung learned Korean like this, without the kinds of lessons and the support that we have. So who are we to complain, right.”

“I can’t exactly sink myself into Chinese in Korea, can I,” Sungmin grumbles.

Zhou Mi grins and replies by rattling off what sounds like twenty Chinese words.

Sungmin squints and makes a face at the end of the sentence. “Say the last... bit again?”

Zhou Mi obliges.

“ _Wen_ ,” Sungmin repeats. “Hey, I do know this word. Kiss, right?”

Zhou Mi laughs. “Yes! See, you’re improving. Kiss. Like the ones you give girls.” He kicks his legs in the air. “Or Heechul-hyung. How _was_ it?”

Sungmin screws up his face despite his best efforts. “I really hadn’t wanted to do it.”

“No, no, how was the kiss.”

“The kiss itself? I’m not sure.” He’d been too busy keeping the next chords in mind, counting down to his cue, and trying not to freak out because damn it, Heechul had still taken him by surprise in the end. “Sweaty?”

Zhou Mi falls off the bed in peals of laughter, and Sungmin joins him about a second later because his laughter is at worst contagious, and upon retrospect, that really was rather funny.

“Hey, don’t die,” Kyuhyun’s voice floats over them some minutes later, when neither of them has yet managed to stop. Zhou Mi is still occasionally rolling across the floor and setting off the giggles in Sungmin. “No real corpses allowed in my room.”

“Ow, my stomach,” Sungmin gasps. Zhou Mi rolls again and they dissolve into another cramp of laughter.

When Sungmin finally manages to look up, Kyuhyun’s disembodied head is staring down at them in an unmistakeable mix of irritation and fondness. “I left so I could game in peace, you know.”

Zhou Mi hoots in response, and Sungmin bends forward in another slew of helpless giggles. “Save us, Kyuhyunnie,” Sungmin cries.

Kyuhyun makes a tossing motion. “Your upgraded bunkers now have 150 extra lives. That’s all I can afford for your bodies. Good luck.”

He vanishes as Zhou Mi howls at him in a jumble of Chinese and Korean. Sungmin huffs a breath and wipes the tears from his cheeks. “Don’t tell.”

“Are you kidding? I’ll be rolling around like this before I can even think about telling anybody.” Zhou Mi heaves himself up onto the bed and very nearly falls back down when the giggles take him again.

Sungmin hiccups and wills his body still. “Mimi-yah, why did you want to know?”

Zhou Mi flips onto his back like a long-limbed starfish. “I’ve never kissed or been kissed by anybody like that on stage. Heechul-hyung’s really good with the fanservice, isn’t he?”

“He is. He’s kind of weird, actually, since he can’t seem to do anything that exhibitionistic with girls.” Sungmin works a hand under his chin. “I don’t know about him, but it was really embarrassing. Kissing like that should be private. Theoretically I thought I could do it for fanservice, but in practice... well.”

Zhou Mi shakes his head with a small smile. “No wonder why you and Kyuhyun get along so well. You’re both so reserved about showing your affection.”

“I hug people and stuff!” Sungmin protests.

“Because it’s part of your image. It’s not like it’s a bad thing, Sungminnie-hyung. You just have different comfort levels when it comes to demonstrating and receiving affection.”

Sungmin cocks an eyebrow at the thoughtful figure draped on his bed. “Mimi-yah,” he says, gently, “I hug people because I want to too. It’s okay to hug people and not worry about image.”

He watches Zhou Mi’s chest rise and sink. It’s surprisingly soothing. “It’s very suffocating,” Zhou Mi says, voice softer than his breaths. “I don’t know what the Korean fans want from me. I mean, aside from not wanting me at all.”

“We want you,” Sungmin says with definitive finality.

Zhou Mi rolls towards him, smiles. Sungmin’s mind wipes clean out.

Finally, his mouth chokes out, “What _did_ you say to me?”

Zhou Mi’s face blanks for a moment. “Oh! Lyrics.”

“What do they mean?”

Zhou Mi grins impishly. “‘This is how your suffering and mine join, in a kiss.’”

“Oh, you—” Sungmin lunges and wrestles with Zhou Mi until he realizes that Zhou Mi is flinching away and laughing more than he’s doing any real wrestling. Then he pokes him in the ribs and, when Zhou Mi squirms away, gives into the impulse to kiss his forehead.

“We like you the way you are,” he says, leaning back to gather his Chinese homework. “And I think it’s time Kyuhyunnie practiced his Chinese too. What says you to... helping him end his game early?”

“You’re devious,” Zhou Mi says wonderingly. Sungmin laughs as they link hands and head for Ryeowook’s room to tandem-mug Kyuhyun into studying with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This piece is timestamped sometime just after the Super Show in Nanjing, on January 17/18, 2009, where Heechul planted one on Sungmin during his solo _Micheyo_. The lyrics in question comes from the 1996 song _The One I Love the Most Hurts Me the Most_ (最愛的人傷我最深) as sung by A-Mei and Chang Yu-Shen , in the line “哦　你我的苦　竟是如此吻合”. Don’t laugh, it took me ages to find a suitable line.


	5. Cloudy With a Hint of Moon [Leeteuk/Donghae, PG-13]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PG-13 for suggestive situations. [Leeteuk/Donghae] Sometimes excuses just don’t cut it anymore. Or maybe they shouldn’t cut it anymore.

“Hyung!” Donghae swoops through the door and lays a smacking kiss on Jungsu’s lips. He draws back, relishes the surprise on Jungsu’s face, and sails past him. “I’m home!”

“Welcome home,” Donghee calls from the kitchen. “Want ddukbokki? Jongwoon-hyung’s dad brought some over just now when he picked him up.”

“Maybe later, thanks!” He peers around, then makes a moue of disappointment. “Everybody else is out?”

“It’s just the three of us,” Jungsu confirms, edging past Donghae for a glass of water, “but our Shindong-ah’s going out soonish. Taping should be done by 7pm or so, if you need any of the manager-hyung or members. What’s in the bag?”

“Changmin’s best!” Donghae fishes out the case and brandishes the nondescript disc like a trophy. “Or so he says.”

“I see,” Jungsu says knowingly. “Are you going to wait, or...?”

“Nah. I don’t mind watch it twice if it comes with such high recommendations. Donghee-hyung, when are you leaving? Are you in?”

Donghee rounds the corner with a cap in hand and a bag slung over his shoulder. He shrugs a bit uncomfortably, a bit ruefully. “I’m meeting Nari, so...”

“The two of you are so _domestic_ ,” Jungsu croons. “It’s adorable.”

“Yeah, she’s great,” Donghee agrees with fervent earnestness. “She’s really great.”

Donghae smiles, a little. Donghee opens his mouth, glances at him, hesitates. He ends up giving them a nod goodbye before disappearing out the door without another word.

Jungsu watches him go, then turns his gaze to Donghae. The softness in them is enough to spur Donghae into motion; he fumbles the case open and turns towards the living room.

“Donghae-yah,” Jungsu says, gently.

“We saw it coming. Both of us.” Donghae keeps his hands steady, his eyes on the DVD player as it turns on. “It’s not a surprise.”

“That doesn’t make it hurt any less.” There’s a shift of movement, and then Jungsu’s arms are coming around his shoulders in a tight hug. “Oh, Donghae-yah, I’m sorry.”

Donghae stares at the extended tray, hyperaware of his hands resting limply on his lap and of the pressure wrapping around him. “I’m sorry, too. I hope she’ll be happy.”

He’s not sure how long they stay kneeling there, but it’s long enough for the tray to sullenly retract without its payload, for his own breathing to sync to the steady rhythm of the chest pressed against him. Jungsu finally lifts his head from where he’d nestled his chin on his shoulder, and unfolds his arms to rest them on his biceps. “Let’s skip the movie.”

“We never skip Changmin’s best,” Donghae protests, but Jungsu’s sliding a hand into his and he isn’t shaking it off.

“It’s about time, then, isn’t it?” Jungsu tugs him to his feet, turns him around. “I love you for who you are, Donghae-yah. We don’t need movies for this.”

If he notices the tears in Donghae’s eyes, he makes no sign of having seen them. “I love you too, hyung,” he says softly. Jungsu leans close in reply.

They don’t have to be in love for this, Donghae thinks with the remnants of his mind as Jungsu’s mouth trails kisses up his jaw and they stumble towards Jungsu’s room. Not that kind of love. And they’re not.

But how would it feel like, if they were?


	6. Dynamic Equilibrium [Heechul/Kangin, R]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> R for sexual situations and language. [Heechul/Kangin] It’s about time Heechul disabuses Youngwoon of some of the deep-seated, totally inconvenient misconceptions that he’s got bogging him down.

One would think that with all the friends he has, Heechul would get laid more often, but no; apparently the universe doesn’t like to make rational sense. Well, whatever. Heechul’s used to it doing its own thing. He does his own thing most of the time anyway, after all.

So here he is, convincing a lay to share an evening with him tonight. Though, to Youngwoon’s credit, he’s doing a very good job of convincing Heechul himself with just the kiss and the tectonic pressure of his hands on his hips.

Especially that particular little twist of his tongue— _Fuck_ , Jungsu’d taught him well. Heechul tears himself away from Youngwoon’s ravenous mouth and groans a short order for the bedroom.

Youngwoon just laughs. “What, no quick handjob against the kitchen counter today? No risking Kibummie or Jay-hyung arriving home just in time to watch you come?”

Heechul shoves him away with a scathing glare. “Bedroom now or you’re getting off on your own, asshole.”

He’s barely two steps into his bedroom when Youngwoon grabs him and pins him against the wall with his tongue nearly down his throat. As such, when Youngwoon finally lets him breathe it takes Heechul a moment too long to process the fact that Youngwoon had sunk to his knees and is about an inch from his bared erection.

“Stop,” Heechul rasps.

Youngwoon doesn’t, presses a kiss to his tip. Heechul shudders, then sinks a hand into Youngwoon’s hair and wrenches his head up. “I said _stop_ , Youngchoon.”

The heat in Youngwoon’s eyes very nearly makes him shudder again. “It’ll be good, hyung.”

“I don’t want your mouth,” Heechul says as coolly as he can manage.

Youngwoon freezes, barely noticeably, then licks his lips. “Hyung, I—”

“Get up.”

“Hyung—”

“I said get up. Fuck, you going to make me repeat myself all night like this?”

Hesitation makes Youngwoon’s every move more graceless than his wont. Heechul mentally rolls his eyes. It’s not like he’s going to have him executed or something, for fuck’s sake. “There’s a bed in the bedroom for a good reason, you know.”

...That fine edge of genuine panic is definitely not a familiar expression on Youngwoon’s face. Especially in this context. “I know I should— but I’m not really... ready for that.” The way Youngwoon says it, he might as well be spitting out ground glass. What the hell, what does he mean, “should”—

 _Oh_.

No wonder why Jungsu had kept complaining that Youngwoon would only suck or jerk him off. How... utterly traditional of him. Heechul can feel his eyebrow hitch up of its own unimpressed accord. “Lube’s in the second drawer. I hope you brought your own condoms, mine might be a bit uncomfortable on you.”

He watches this stunned sort of betrayal skate over Youngwoon’s eyes before Youngwoon realizes what Heechul’s implying. “Of course,” Heechul continues blithely, “I’m pretty sure they’ll still fit, so if you really didn’t, then we should still be okay.”

“Hyung—?”

Heechul smirks. “What, you think this is some sort of surrender? You think I’m submitting to you just because I’m letting you put your cock in me?”

He shoves Youngwoon, and it’s a goddamn testament to how unbalanced Youngwoon is when he actually takes a step back, hits the bed, and goes down with a bounce and a yelp. He stills, though, when Heechul presses a hand to the base of his throat, presses hard enough that the skin beneath his fingertips bleaches white.

“Stay there,” Heechul says, very quietly, “and don’t move.”


	7. Differential [Zhou Mi + Siwon, PG]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PG for religious discussions. [Zhou Mi + Siwon] There’s a fundamental divide between being deviant and being wrong. Mi just doesn’t expect to be confronting it so... academically.

“I hope you don’t mind tea.” Mi fumbles a mug. “It’s basically all I have left. Sorry for the austere hospitality.”

“It’s no issue!” Siwon’s trademark eyebrows wiggle in emphasis. “It’s not like I gave you time to prepare the red carpet for me.”

Mi laughs. “Not even a kettle of hot water, no,” he mock-grumbles, staring at the serene appliance. It doesn’t look inclined to heat up, much less whistle. And it’s been nearly ten minutes, that stubborn little— “I’d offer Jonghyun’s cold milk tea, but I didn’t get to ask him before all of SHINee left, so—”

“Aish, I said it’s fine.” Siwon leans back against the counter. He looks so much like a model in a photoshoot that Mi can’t help but stare.

Siwon tilts his head questioningly.

“So many dirty dishes,” Mi adlibs lamely, gesturing at the full sink next to Siwon’s elbow.

Siwon glances, grins. “It’s good to know that even though the dongsaeng are small, their appetites aren’t.”

“They’re healthy boys. Kibum likes to stuff Taemin and me with antioxidants when he can get away with it.”

Siwon’s grin softens into a smile. “You’re moving on Sunday, aren’t you?”

Mi looks around the messy flat, knowing that the longing is clear in his eyes. “Yeah. I’ll miss them.”

“Jay-hyung and Jungmo-hyung are good housemates,” Siwon assures, then frowns. “But then that’s Heechul-hyung’s opinion.”

“At least I know how to deal with Henry. Nothing like three months of living together in a foreign country for every potential domestic spat to give us a go.”

Siwon hums sympathetically, dimples stark against his chiselled features, and—

The kettle starts sputtering like a malfunctioning microphone. Not quite sure if he’s grateful or resentful, Mi settles for steeping the tea. “Anyway,” he continues, “as long as they’re clean and don’t have, like, syringes and suspicious powders everywhere I’ll be fine.”

Siwon picks up his mug and follows Mi into his marginally neater bedroom (given how most of his things are already packed away). “If anything, Jungmo-hyung swears he makes Henry take more baths now,” he deadpans. They exchange grins.

“Let’s see if we can get away with either of them admitting that on air!” Mi giggles at the mental image. “The homoeroticism will fan a riot.”

Siwon pauses for a beat too long, then blows a breath out. “Zhou Mi, you’ve felt desire before, right?”

“Sure,” Mi says blandly.

“Sexual desire?”

Mi can’t help but arch an eyebrow. “Well, yeah. I’m a man in the full vigours of youth.” He eyes Siwon’s fidgety hands, heavy brows accentuating his fierce frown, and gets up to close the bedroom door. It’s not like that would make a difference, since the rest of the suite is empty, but a token gesture at privacy can soothe the mind.

Siwon stares at the tea like it has answers that alcohol could provide.

So... let’s start safe. “Will you bring the bathing thing up? You’re the one who obliges the fans.”

“It’s my job.”

“Well, if you don’t Heechul-hyung will, it’s not like he needs encouragement—”

“Heechul-hyung is safe,” Siwon interrupts. Then, more softly, “it’s the least I can do for Heechul-hyung.”

Mi rather agrees. For all that Heechul is difficult to understand, he wears his heart on his sleeve, regardless of how brutal its sight can be. Sometimes Mi worries that Heechul’s love can burn Heechul himself if he’s not careful.

But... “Come now, Siwon.” Mi smiles to take the sting out. “You like to hug us and everything too, right? You’d do it even if it’s not in your job description. It’s just that you happen to get to do it for money.” Though, Mi himself would put a price to helping Heechul make fans go crazy; Heechul’s plans are... interesting, to say the least.

Siwon nods, then drops his head into his hands.

...Oh. Now Mi really has to be careful. “This business is meant to make us all attractive,” he says gently. “It’s not surprising you’d find somebody desirable.”

Siwon draws a shuddering breath. “It’s just temptation,” he says firmly. “I can resist, and I will resist.”

“What, and desire for girls aren’t?” Mi cocks his head. “I know people who don’t have sex just for their own pleasure.”

Siwon shakes his head. “It’s not just that. Sex isn’t just for each other. It’s a spiritual act for God. It’s supposed to be for new life.”

Mi mulls this over. “That’s kind of hard to argue against,” he admits.

Siwon cracks a smile. “Feeling this is wrong, but I can resist. It’s good to know that you’re so strong.”

Wait, what? “Wrong? Strong?” Mi repeats, flummoxed.

Siwon stares at him, then flushes. “I thought,” he mumbles, then stutters to a standstill.

“Thought what, exactly?”

“You and Kyuhyun,” Siwon says, though it takes Mi a few seconds to process the rush of syllables.

Mi rocks back. “What?” he manages.

“You and Kyuhyun are always all over each other,” Siwon blurts, so quickly that Mi almost has trouble understanding him again. “And you always cling to each other—”

“Siwon, stop.” Mi dredges a weak laugh from somewhere within. “You’re extrapolating now.”

Siwon takes a long drink. “But even if... you resist, don’t you?”

It’s nice to know somebody has so much faith in him. Mi smiles wryly. “I don’t really think finding someone attractive is a choice to resist.” Then he blinks. “Haven’t you had this conversation before?”

Siwon shrugs jerkily. “This isn’t... I... don’t really discuss this with Hyukjae or Sooyoung. I’m not sure if they’d...” The silence trails off helplessly, as if he’d run out of words to explain.

But Mi understands, words or no. Acceptance can be more precious than trust. All Mi can do is hold his arms open in a silent offer of solidarity, and let Siwon melt against him.

And if Siwon holds on for a little too long, a little too tightly... well, Mi’s not going to hold it against him either.


	8. Lynchpin [Yesung/Leeteuk, PG-13]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PG-13 for language and suggestive situations. [Yesung/Leeteuk] Some duties are hard to live by – and harder to put down.

Not for the first time, Jungsu wonders how they hadn’t been kicked out of the building for noise complaints yet.

Heechul’s voice suddenly magnifies three times in volume and Jungsu tries not to wince. “—said _no_ , you witless excuse of a—”

Hankyung’s is softer and less distinct, but then he’s the only other person aside from Youngwoon and himself who would dare to cut Heechul off in an argument. And whom Heechul would let cut him off. Jungsu’s frankly glad he can’t hear anything aside from the iron in Hankyung’s voice.

Still, that means it’s quieter, and that means he can hear Jongwoon’s ringing through the apartment. “Hyung! I can hear you from the stairwell! What’s wrong?”

“Shut the fuck up, Jongwoon,” Heechul snarls. “Stay out of this.”

“Heechul—”

The racket cuts off. Jungsu sighs and turns the music down a little; the volume – and the earphones – had started hurting him a while ago, but being hurt by music is infinitely better than by the shouting. From the muffled sounds across the room, Donghae and Jongwoon are having some sort of conversation; as long as they stay quiet, he won’t kick them out. Probably.

Then the sounds of the argument crests and troughs again. A hand lands on his shoulder. “Up for a quick journey, Leader-ssi?” Jongwoon.

“Leave me alone,” Jungsu grits.

“What? I can’t hear you. Let’s go somewhere quieter so that I can. Come on, hyung. It won’t take a minute.”

It takes Jongwoon more wheedling, a shake or two, and finally a bicep curl to lever Jungsu up, but soon Jungsu’s weaving on his feet. “Let me go, Jongwoon,” Jungsu says, low and dangerous.

“Still can’t hear you.” Jongwoon wraps a hand around his waist, tucks the blanket tighter around him, and has them out of his room before Jungsu had quite realized that he’d somehow already pocketed his music player and put his slippers on. “We’ll be somewhere quieter in a bit, though, so you can yell at me all you want then.”

Donghae’s jabbing at the lift’s call button when they make it into the hallway. “One already came, but I couldn’t really hold it.” He scowls and hits the button again. “It’s been a while already, though, so— ah.”

“They’re really loud, aren’t they,” Jungsu finally says when they’ve piled into the elevator and are somewhere between the twelfth and eleventh floor. Heechul’s voice is still a distinct entity in the air.

Jongwoon grimaces. “What _are_ they fighting about? If Hankyung-hyung’s lost his temper like this...”

“I don’t know.” Donghae looks uneasy even as he holds the elevator doors open for them. “At least Heechul-hyung won’t break things around Hankyung-hyung. I think.”

Jungsu groans. “Should have left me there. Heechul might—”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, hyung.” Jongwoon bustles him straight through the apartment and into his bedroom without breaking stride. “Not even Byungjun-hyung interferes when Heechul-hyung and Hankyung-hyung fight now.”

“Will you be okay?” Donghae says, hovering by the doorway. Even without looking, Jungsu can feel the worried eyes pinned on him. “I’ll come down with some noodles later.”

Jungsu sits on Jongwoon’s bed and gives Donghae what he hopes is a smile more genuine than wan. “That’d be great. Thank you.”

Donghae leans in to kiss him on the cheek and hug Jongwoon, then ducks back out without another pause. “He’s a good boy,” Jongwoon says fondly, pulling his head back into the bedroom when the front door has shut.

“Yes, he is.” Jungsu lies down slowly, unravelling the blanket from around him as he goes. “I hope he’ll be okay.”

“If he can’t handle Heechul-hyung, he’ll call Jay-hyung. Or Yunho. Or— aish, don’t worry, okay.”

Jungsu sighs, exhaustion weighing his bones down. He shifts to get more comfortable. “I suppose.”

“Have you taken your painkillers? Do you want me to get them?” Jongwoon’s frown is evident in his words.

“I’ve taken them already. I just want to fall asleep before I get nauseous.”

The apartment is blessedly silent. Silent for a given comparison, at least, since Heechul’s voice still wafts into earshot once in a while, but it seems to be coming with longer gaps of silence in between, and okay. Jungsu’s really, really glad he’s not dealing with the issue for once.

The bed indents behind him slowly, and Jungsu gives in the urge to sink towards the warmth, gives into the urge to sigh at the hand that cards through his hair. “You don’t have to be so strong all the time, hyung,” Jongwoon says softly.

“Jongwoon-ah, it’s the job of a hyung.”

“Well, then, I am the hyung of this apartment. Just sleep here, and let me deal with things.” Another hand trails over his shoulder and down his arm, a solid, comforting stroke. “I’ll wake you up if somebody dies.”

Jungsu huffs a laugh and winces again. He’ll have to up the dose next time, maybe pair it with a sleeping pill. “Call manager-hyung first. Oh, and the hospital.”

“Mmh. You’re too tense, though.” Warmth bleeds through the blanket. Jongwoon’s hand cups his hip slowly, fingers flat against the crease between his thigh and lower abdomen. “Would you like me to...?”

Jungsu can’t suppress his shiver. “Please,” he breathes.


	9. Distance Education [Siwon + Kibum, G]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> G. [Siwon + Kibum] Siwon misses Kibum quite a lot. But what about Kibum...?

The line connects without extra wait time, which comforts Siwon in an obscurely relieving way. “Hey,” he greets softly.

“Hey,” Kibum says, voice a welcome baritone no matter how tired. “Hey, hyung. How goes?”

“I’m good. Busy as always. You?”

“Busy. Like you.”

They spend a few moments breathing; Siwon spends it savouring even the mere suggestion of presence over the phone. “Are you lonely?” he says. “It’s been a while since we’ve had group activities with you properly.”

“Somewhat.” There’s a series of muffled pops that sounds suspiciously like a cracking back. “Been really quiet.”

“I can imagine,” Siwon says, though he probably can’t. There’s something to be said for moving from a flat of four young idols into a flat for one. There’s probably even more to be said for moving from a flat dominated by Kim Heechul surrounded by his beloveds into a flat where silence rings louder than stage lights and costumes.

He wonders at the texture of the peace, and then wonders what he’d do if he knew.

“Maybe you can,” Kibum muses, startling Siwon out of his train of thoughts. “Kind of feels like I’m disconnected from the chaos already.”

Siwon finds coherent words on his second try. “Like you’re at home?” he says carefully.

Kibum pauses. “Like I can breathe a bit better,” he replies, with the distinct feel of a jeweler putting stones down after a thorough scrutiny, “not like I belong to an apartment for one.”

“Oh.” Siwon thinks of Hankyung and the lighter flow of his words when they converse with the Yellow Sea between them, and of the parallels that do and don’t apply. “You should come by sometime. Apparently we’re starting a new subgroup, one for China. We have a few potential new members.”

Kibum hums. “I bet you’re on the roster along with Hankyung-hyung.”

“Seems like it.”

“And Henry?”

“Almost definitely.”

“He should. He’s really good.” A shift. “I’m sorry, hyung, but I need to go to bed soon. I have a morning shoot.”

“But of course.” Siwon pauses, then teases, “Do you have trouble going to sleep, Kibummie?”

“What if I do? Are you offering to give me phone sex to help me along or something?” Kibum laughs before Siwon can do much more than stammer his embarrassment. “Don’t worry, hyung. The quiet is good for rest.”

“God is with you,” Siwon says with absolute faith. “He will soothe your soul even when we cannot.”

Kibum laughs softly. “Our Lord is always with me, whether you are or not. God bless you, Siwon-hyung.”

“May the Lord bless you too, Kibum. Good night.”

Siwon hangs up and stares at the phone for a long, unseeing moment, heart heavy with the unspoken, acknowledged goodbye. In a way, he supposes he’d always known. Some people are meant to flourish as independent stars. Siwon isn’t one of them, and so he can’t begin to imagine how it must feel like for Kibum, to finally be free to walk the path he is meant to take.

He still thinks he might understand a little more than the others, though.


	10. Dictionary [Hankyung + Eunhyuk, PG]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PG for language. [Hankyung + Eunhyuk] Han Geng learns the art of saying no. Heechul is nothing if not a tireless teacher.

In a crowd of, say, SM’s current trainees, Geng would have pegged Lee Hyukjae as one of the very last people to extend this sort of invitation towards him.

In all honesty, Geng’s not interested. Well, he _is_ interested – even Kong Zi would turn in his grave to watch Lee Hyukjae roll his hips – but he’s interested in a no-strings-attached kind of way, and Lee Hyukjae? Is indubitably not a no-strings-attached kind of guy. Hell, he still clings to the notion of definitive heteronormativity like it’s the last bastion against apocalypse.

So, no, Geng is Not Interested.

“Heechul-ah,” he finally says after weeks of increasingly uncomfortable practices. “Heechul, I don’t know— I have a problem.”

“A second,” Heechul murmurs, digital explosions flashing echoes across his skin, “I’m just about to take down the extra fortresses those fuckers had thought could hold me back—”

Since that usually means Heechul is minutes away from winning, Geng slips onto the couch and watches Heechul type furiously and make increasingly triumphant cackles at his laptop until he has to lean back and laugh.

When he rights himself, Heechul is sliding into place beside him; his smile is something too genuine for the studios to see. “So,” he says, “your problem.”

Ah. “How do you— decline somebody politely?”

Heechul blinks, then rounds his eyes to almost comical wideness. “You bastard of a _stud_. You’re being _propositioned_ and you didn’t tell me you had an admirer earlier?!”

“I was not certain,” Geng says defensively. “I would be flattered if it was not so... strange?”

“‘Awkward’,” Heechul corrects promptly. “You’re an attractive man, Kyungie, it’s not strange.”

Geng blushes despite himself.

Heechul’s grinning madly now. “So what’s she like? Do I know her? Is she hot?”

Geng hesitates, but it’s not like Heechul won’t find out eventually. Besides, he needs to know some details. “You do know the boy.” He tries not to bite his lip when Heechul’s eyebrows arch.

Heechul, though, being Heechul, recovers with admirable poise. “Well, that’s a twist I haven’t helped deal with regularly. Did you just tell him you’re not interested, then?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“That will just make practice even more— awkward? Awkward.”

Heechul jerks upright. “Practice? Wait.” He stares narrowly at him. “You didn’t say— How exactly did he ask you?”

Geng frowns. “He didn’t actually say, but— he touches a lot. In dance practice, I— we don’t—” He struggles for words, then gives up. “Touching is a sign of interest, yes?”

“Yeah, for a given definition of— dance practice? Aren’t there only, what, four other guys there? The instructor and Lee Donghae and Lee Hyukjae and—”

Something on his face must have changed, because Heechul cuts himself off and spends a moment just staring.

“Lee Hyukjae? Propositioning you?”

“I did not expect it. I don’t know how to say no,” Geng says miserably.

“I didn’t even— huh. Seriously?” Heechul looks entirely too pensive. “I hadn’t thought... well.” He turns that look onto Geng. “So how did he proposition you?”

Geng shifts uneasily. “In practice, he— touches me. Even when I don’t need corrections.” He places his hands on his hips and his chest in demonstration. Today, it’d been his side as he’d bid goodbye to Donghae and him, followed by a wide smile and a hushed word of admiration. Geng knows hero worship, and this isn’t it. Which means... “He touches Donghae in practice too, but I don’t think I am the same kind of friend, and he touches me the same way.”

“And nobody touches during dance practice in China?”

“We touch! Just... not so gentle. More like the touching in Class C.” Between strangers and rivals. No strings attached.

“‘Not so gently’.” Heechul’s smiling quietly now. “Oh, Kyungie. If Donghae describes him right, then Lee Hyukjae is shy and likes to be helpful. He probably only helps you and Donghae because he feels like he can approach you safely.”

“He is helping me?” Geng repeats sceptically.

“If I were to guess, I’d say he’s trying to reassure you.”

“Reassure me?” Geng repeats, even more sceptically.

Heechul laughs, not unkindly. “You inspire mothering instincts in the best of people, Kyungie.” He sticks his legs into Geng’s lap and flops back to look at the ceiling. “He probably comes up to you only when Donghae’s with him, doesn’t he? Don’t worry, Kyungie, Lee Hyukjae is one of the straightest people on whom I’ve ever set eyes. He’s likely trying his best to be friendly to a lost-looking sunbae.”

“Do you all touch so much to become friends?”

“We touch friends and nice people more,” Heechul says breezily. “Like me with you.”

Something he hadn’t realized was tense releases inside him, and Geng slumps onto the couch. “Koreans are so confusing,” he whines, more out of relief than anything else.

“You’re pretty confusing yourself, love magnet,” Heechul snipes. “You probably just let him after your initial jump of surprise or something, didn’t you?” He doesn’t wait for Geng’s answer (which would have been an affirmative, not that he’d been planning to actually say it). “I suppose we’re a relatively touchy-feely people.” He raises his head and grins like the summer sun. “Soon enough you’ll be used to it too.”

“Yes,” Geng says softly, chest warm, “I suppose.” The way Heechul shrieks and nearly flails off the couch when Geng scratches fingers up the soles of his feet is nearly as satisfying.

Then Heechul is descending on him and Geng casts thoughts aside in favour of a proper tickle fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know there’s more Heechul in this than there is Hyukjae. Hyukjae and Hankyung are _hard_ to write together, okay, and Heechul is just easy all around. Especially with Hankyung. Um. Yeah.


	11. Loss Leader [Ryeowook + Sungmin, G]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> G. [Ryeowook + Sungmin] Sungmin and Ryeowook have different views about proper appreciation.

“I’m back early!” Sungmin salutes cheerfully from the door.

“Welcome back!” If Ryeowook rises to his toes, he can catch a glimpse of the black van turning out onto the road. His muscles are still thrumming from the earlier rehearsal, disappointingly; he’ll have to make another week of one-on-one practice with the dance instructors again.

Sungmin glances over his shoulder from the closet and smiles, sweet and soft. “Ryeowookie! Hey.” He lets Ryeowook wrap arms around his waist and lean into his shoulder. “How was your day so far?”

“Good. It went well. And yours?”

“I spent it with Hyukjae and our Canadian baby finalizing the dance sequences.” He waddles them into the living area, shedding bags into the hall in favour of collapsing onto the sofa with Ryeowook. And even then, his grace is breathtaking. “Henry’s going to be more polished than chrome by the time his debut rolls around.”

Sweet-faced, soft-skinned, and one of their most dangerous members, oh, yes. The strange thing with Lee Sungmin, though, is that he gets underestimated very frequently. Ryeowook doesn’t understand how this can happen. Maybe somewhere in the inexplicable formulae of entertainment marketing the message is lost? “He’s good, isn’t he? Henry-yah.”

“He really is talented, our Henry,” Sungmin says warmly. He turns in Ryeowook’s arms, guides them towards the living room couch to flop onto the cushions. “I look forward to really talking with our other new member. Zhou Mi, was it?”

“Mmh. Zhou Mi.” Ryeowook is certain he’s still pronouncing the name wrong; he’ll have to find Hankyung later to help him with the syllables. The man had sacrificed comfort to come to Korea to be with them, like Hankyung; the least Ryeowook can do is honour his name. “I hope they won’t get the kind of hate Kyuhyun had received when he joined us.”

Sungmin sighs, draping his arms over Ryeowook’s shoulders. “I hope so, too, but that’s out of our control. All we can do is love them.”

“Of course we’ll love them,” Ryeowook protests, token loyalty flaring up.

Sungmin smiles at him. “Of course we’ll love them, but you, you’ll adore them, won’t you? You’re that kind of person. They’ll learn lots from you. You’ll be their irreplaceable person.” He strokes Ryeowook’s hair. “Can you believe it? You finally have a properly appreciative maknae! He’ll be good for you, he’s quite supportive.”

The most dangerous thing about Lee Sungmin isn’t how he plays into the underestimation, it’s how he sees the gaps within the people who underestimate him and uses them. Sungmin has very clear vision where it matters. And the thing is, Ryeowook doesn’t get underestimated. He gets his worth estimated quite correctly. So he has to be observant, and estimate the other side better first, and do something about it. So he doesn’t have to get estimated at all. “Hyung, he has you and Heechul-hyung and Yongwoon-hyung—”

Sungmin leans in and kisses his cheek, cutting Ryeowook’s words off with a finger to his lips. “Don’t look so surprised, Ryeowook-ah. He might have our loud, protective sunbae to look up to, but he has you, too. You’ve always been beyond precious. But maybe now you’ll believe it.”

Ryeowook slants a skeptical look at Sungmin, who returns it with calm conviction. Well, if Sungmin is willing to believe in that for him... then Ryeowook can be okay with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Loss leader” is a marketing term for a product sold at a low price (at or below cost) to stimulate other profitable sales. I honestly think Sungmin is totally _awesome_ and also totally underrated on a regular basis. It’s sad.
> 
> This is times-tamped sometime between June to September of 2007, after Zhou Mi joined but before the Only-13 outcry following Henry’s addition.


	12. Clear Objectives [Donghae/Kyuhyun, PG-13]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PG-13 for suggestive situations. [Donghae/Kyuhyun] Kyuhyun’s trained himself to be sharp of eyes and analytic of mind. Thus, he’s almost always right. That margin of error, though...

“Kyuhyun,” Donghae trills. Cloth rustles; he’s probably rolling onto his stomach. “For how much longer are you going to play?”

“Long enough,” Kyuhyun says absently.

“We have to go to bed soon. Early day tomorrow.”

Kyuhyun grunts. His opponent is damn fast; there’s not much mental space left for him to prepare speech.

“Kyuhyunnie, come on,” Donghae wheedles. Kyuhyun’s not actually looking, but he’s pretty sure Donghae’s kicking his legs like a petulant child. “Hyukkie won’t let me sleep with him tonight...”

“Call Siwon-hyung over. He’ll be happy to help.”

Donghae puffs reprovingly. “If you miss him, call him over yourself!”

“I’m not the one who wants to cuddle.” Kyuhyun mutters something very unkind under his breath when his opponent reacts a hair faster and takes down one of his platoons. “Try Sungmin-hyung.”

“Sungmin-hyung doesn’t like to cuddle in bed. And I don’t want to cuddle with Sungmin-hyung tonight. I want to cuddle with _you_.”

Kyuhyun sighs. “Can this wait until after I win?”

“Only if you’re quick.”

Kyuhyun doesn’t reply, but his vicious gesture of triumph fifteen minutes later should be answer enough.

“Done?” Donghae says needlessly, giving him a hopeful grin when Kyuhyun looks over. He scrambles to his feet with an anticipatory leer.

Kyuhyun stands up in a long stretch in lieu of a reply. Donghae rests a hand on Kyuhyun’s ribs, and shifts it to his sternum when Kyuhyun just cocks an eyebrow. His hand spreads wider, as does his smile when the tip of his ring finger nudges against the hardening nub of Kyuhyun’s nipple and elicits a shudder from Kyuhyun.

For all that they know how each other’s body feels like and moves, Donghae still treats every touch like it will reveal secrets to which he’s never been privy before. Frankly, Kyuhyun doesn’t have that kind of energy, but far be it for him to begrudge Donghae his little pleasures. He lets Donghae swing him around and back him to his bed, lets gravity pull him down and leave Donghae kneeling on the floor, nestled between his legs.

Donghae breathes a satisfied laugh-sigh against his neck and burrows hands under his shirt. Curious fingers trip up his sides, snag on—

“Are they sensitive?” he says.

“Not— quite.” Kyuhyun tries to restart his breathing, and makes a facial wince when it comes as a wheeze. “It just feels different. Than when you touch... just skin.”

“Huh.” For some reason, Donghae finds them fascinating. He presses closer, hands splaying wide, and Kyuhyun can almost hear his mind switch to mapping out the lines on his body. “They don’t feel like the one I got when I was five on the playground and tripped down the stairs during tag...”

“That’s because you scraped your knees on pavement, hyung,” Kyuhyun says drily. “I didn’t exactly scrape myself on pavement.”

“No,” Donghae agrees. “But they still don’t feel like anything else I have, not even— And most of mine are sensitive.”

Kyuhyun shifts, and Donghae’s arms tighten around him. “Don’t move! You just made me lose my way. I haven’t figured my way out of the maze yet.”

Kyuhyun knows better than to ask. He resigns himself to playing Donghae’s personal puzzle for the next few minutes, mentally counting the seconds as the hands take their sweet time meandering down beneath his shirt.

“Okay?” Donghae murmurs when his fingers are light and low on his back. It takes close to what feels like another minute for Kyuhyun to realize that he’d puddled into a saggy lump on Donghae, lulled by the warm dark of the space tucked under his chin and cradled within his arms.

He hums in answer, turning his head as Donghae presses lips to his cheekbone. Up close, Donghae’s eyes are pure black, without any hint of their usual warm rings of brown, and Kyuhyun can’t resist leaning up to kiss his nose.

“If you were anybody else,” he says, affection welling over his tongue.

Donghae smiles at him, sweet and uncomplicated. “But I’m me.”

“Yeah, you’re you. The entire touchy-feely you.”

“I like touching you,” Donghae remarks, expression edging dangerously close to a pout. “Jungsu-hyung hates it when I touch his back...”

Kyuhyun thinks of his own voice, and Leeteuk’s famously striking good looks, and can only stay silent in mutual support. Sometimes all reminders can do is hurt.

“And you feel nice,” Donghae concludes. “It’s soothing.” He presses his hands against Kyuhyun’s sides. “So. Can we go to bed?”

Kyuhyun exhales, and hopes Donghae doesn’t notice the way it shakes. “Can we turn the lights off?”

Donghae pauses, then leans and kisses him chastely. “How else are we going to sleep? Silly.”

Kyuhyun blinks. “I thought—”

“—we should go to bed soon?” Donghae’s grin is impish and... layered, in a way Kyuhyun’s kind of surprised to find that he can’t read. “We have an early day tomorrow.”

Kyuhyun blinks again. “Have you set the alarm?” he finally manages lamely. Donghae gives him a heavy look as he climbs onto the bed. “Right,” Kyuhyun says, lamely again. Wow, he is so not cool today. “I’ll get ready for bed, then.”

When he returns from the washroom his room is dark and Donghae is already tellingly still beneath his comforter. On the outside edge of the bed. Kyuhyun heaves a put-upon sigh.

Donghae makes a muffled noise when Kyuhyun clambers carefully over him to slip under the blanket, and gives him a drowsy smile that’s visible from the hallway light spilling through the door’s crack. “So much for sleeping together,” Kyuhyun says wryly.

“Had an early day today.” Donghae tucks Kyuhyun under his chin and squirms, pleased. “Let’s sleep.”

Kyuhyun obligingly wraps an arm around Donghae’s waist. “I thought you wanted to, ah, be busier in bed tonight, so I delayed you,” he says by way of apology.

Donghae huffs a laugh. “You jump to conclusions too quickly, Kyuhyunnie.”

“Yeah,” Kyuhyun says, chest warmer than the body pressed against him, “I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is time-stamped somewhere around August or September 2007, just before Kyuhyun has fully recovered from the accident. He should have met Zhou Mi and started bonding with him by then, since Zhou Mi joined SM in April 2007, Super Junior-M was announced in October 2007 and its potential members already training, but I doubt he’d been on terms good enough to be offered up as casual poke-fun material. I also ran out of room exploring the new lack of hate on Kyuhyun, but oh well. Story for another day.


	13. Depth Perception [Eunhyuk + Henry, PG-13]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PG-13 for suggestive situations. [Eunhyuk + Henry] Henry’s talent speaks louder for him than he himself ever will. Which, Hyukjae reflects, is the tragedy.

“He learns really quickly,” Donghae promises, “but he kind of needs a lot of body language, so be extra-emphatic, okay?”

It’s not the first time Hyukjae’s taken Henry to practice, but it is the first time he’d be doing it without other members helping out with formations. Regrettably, though, Donghae doesn’t seem like he’s of much help offering his expertise with teaching Henry solo. “Doesn’t he have a translator?” Hyukjae says bemusedly. “Or, I mean, if there isn’t, can’t I borrow Kibum?”

“Kibummie is filming too, so you’ll have to wait for him to come back whenever.” Donghae starts at Donghee’s shout from down the hall. “I really have to go now, but you’ll have fun! He’s really talented; see if you can bum a few moves off from him yourself!”

“But what about his translator?” Hyukjae yells at Donghae’s back. The only reply is a wave.

As it turns out, when the van (not driven by a manager-hyung, since mere practice at the studio isn’t as important as a company meeting or shoots for three variety shows, a drama, and/or a modelling gig) pulls up to one of the other dorms, Henry’s waiting at the lobby with a sharp-eyed boy – another Kim Kibum, if Hyukjae remembers correctly – and nobody else in sight. Henry sinks into a rapid, deep bow the moment he makes eye contact with Hyukjae past the opened car doors, deeper than the one offered by Kim Kibum. “Aish, no, it’s okay, don’t bow—”

Henry straightens, expression pinching a bit as his mouth opens. “Minsang-noona... she is busy translating for other trainees.” The boy’s shoulders come up in a vague shrug that looks as vulnerable as Hyukjae feels. “I will try do best, Hyukjae-hyung.”

“As will I,” Hyukjae replies. “Ah... let’s go, I guess.”

Kim Kibum says something in English to Henry as he rubs Henry’s shoulder, and gives Hyukjae a parting bow as Henry climbs aboard. Hyukjae watches him shrink in size as the van peel away from the lobby. “He’s a good friend,” he says.

Henry looks briefly puzzled, then smiles tentatively. “Kibum-ssi? He is very kind.”

Unfortunately, Hyukjae is about as comfortable – and less fluent – with English as Henry is with Korean, so they spend the rest of the (thankfully short) ride in mounting silence. Hyukjae makes small talk with the people they meet in the company halls, but the silence is no smaller in size when they finally shut the door to the dance studio.

He looks really, really young, Hyukjae thinks helplessly as Henry crosses the room to set his violin case down. He knows that Henry’s about the same age as the majority of them when they’d joined the company, and he’s definitely older than the frankly brilliant Lee Taemin, but...

There’s something about Henry that’s drifting, that makes him small, that makes him feel like he’d cling if he could. Like a dandelion puff.

Like maybe they should actually start practice now. “Okay... how about you show me what you remember from last time?”

Henry nods from the middle of his stretch, which prompts Hyukjae to join him. They complete all fifteen minutes of warm-up in the same strange silence. It’s a miracle, really, that it hasn’t gotten any more awkward.

Henry shakes his body in one last limbering exercise, then _flows_ into position. Hyukjae can’t help but stare, taken off guard. He barely hears the perfect English countdown before Henry moves.

While they’ve already practiced with Henry a few times, Hyukjae’s always been too distracted to focus on him as a dancer. But now that he is, it’s clear that this kind of effort isn’t like Henry’s concentration with Korean. His body loosens, his chin comes up, and his eyes spark into a dare.

_Fast learner,_ Donghae’d said. So that’s why he’d made no mention of translators... Perhaps this exercise really won’t require one after all.

“Good memory,” he says when Henry brakes to a stop. “Donghae couldn’t practice with us this time, but let’s go through your entrance just before the bridge. We’ll go slow first. Five, six, seven, eight—”

Something learned today: Henry _can_ dance slowly. Counting beats absently in his head, Hyukjae goes through the motions and watches Henry as he skates about like he really is wearing wheels on his shoes, then dips down and rises slow as he pleases. “You missed a beat,” he says through a drier mouth. “Let’s go again.”

And again. And again. And again. Henry’s nothing if not a fluid dancer; each repetition has him polishing his grace, refining his edges into something more accented than foreign. Hyukjae’s few suggestions is incorporated after a few tries without overt issues.

Hyukjae’s mouth is thoroughly dry now, and it’s not just because of exertion. He’s on his knees again, waiting for Henry to start, and his limbs feel like they want to collapse on him, they’re so soft with amazement. Other parts of himself—

“Water break,” Hyukjae croaks. “Ten minutes?”

Henry wipes his forehead and nods gratefully, or at least Hyukjae thinks he nods – he’s already out the door and running.

The bathroom closest to the studio down the hall has never been farther away. Hyukjae slams into the door and ducks into the first cubicle he sees, thanking God that this particular washroom is empty. His traitorous hand shakes as it presses into the front of his pants, and he barely swallows a groan.

_This isn’t supposed to happen...!_

He squeezes his eyes shut, and stays in the cubicle for a long, long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like Henry would have gotten a bigger dance role in Don’t Don if it weren’t for the giant outcry from the fans, which is why I’m speculating that he’d been, at some point in time, trained for a choreographed position in Super Junior’s routine.


	14. Shadow Puppets [Yesung/Heechul, R]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> R for sexual situations and language. [Yesung/Heechul] There’s something to be said for learning what each person brings to bed. With the bedmates Jongwoon keeps, he might as well expect to get burned once in a while.

One open secret in SM is that Kim Heechul’s learned to kiss worth a damn. It’s more of an epistemic given than a law of nature, really, but Jongwoon likes being practically reminded from time to time.

“Been awhile, hasn’t it,” Heechul pants in his ear, hands tangled in Jongwoon’s hair and breath a scorch of want against his skin. “Up for something long tonight?”

“Been far too long, hyung, yes—” He’s cut off by another kiss, and whispers the rest into Heechul’s mouth.

Heechul may be thin, but he’s far from weak. Unlike Ryeowook, he doesn’t have to convince anybody of this, and unlike Ryeowook, he doesn’t have any qualms about using his strength whenever he wants. Honestly, Jongwoon almost likes this reminder more than the kiss. He gasps into Heechul’s mouth as Heechul slams him into his bedroom wall and pins him, hands running down his chest and lodging on the crests of his hips. He grinds against the wiry body, drinks in Heechul’s own gasp, and manages to flip them around.

Heechul retaliates by forcing his mouth open and staking his claim. Jongwoon moans, and bites his tongue.

Which surprises the hell out of him when Heechul swears against him in something decidedly not pleasure and shoves him away.

After two staggers, Jongwoon whips around. “What—”

The words die when their eyes meet. Heechul leans against the wall, hand backed against his swollen lips.

They spend a moment staring at each other from arm’s length. No; Jongwoon spends the moment staring at Heechul. Heechul’s looking at him, but his blown eyes are seeing something nobody else can in this room.

“Don’t— do that,” Heechul finally says. His fingers are half over his mouth, jail bars over temptation.

“Don’t do what?”

“That. Biting my tongue. Don’t—” Heechul shudders, very faintly. “Just don’t.”

Jongwoon watches him breathe. “I’m sorry,” he says, cautious, soft. “I was thoughtless. I won’t again.”

Heechul shakes his head. “Not your fault.” There’s a darkness in the line of his lips and in his movements when he pulls him close, though, and may God forgive him, but Jongwoon has no idea what to do about it.

He lets the uncertainty temper his touches, gentle his kisses and dull his teeth. Heechul’s hands drag against his skin, more exploratory than their wont, but they’re soon hard and demanding again. It almost takes Jongwoon every dreg of his self-control to drag them both onto his bed.

He has no idea how their clothes vanish between them in the next few minutes, but he really doesn’t care. There are things more deserving of his attention. Like the stretches of bare skin and lean limbs beneath him. He squeezes the thigh beneath his hand, and—

—Freezes. Fuck, way to just _toss_ what he’d realized out of his mind—

Heechul moans for a moment longer before slitting eyes open. “Don’t stop, bastard.”

“I forgot— was that okay? Did—”

Heechul sighs. “Don’t kill the atmosphere. I am not made of tofu. I will tell you if I don’t want you to do something.” His touch to Jongwoon’s cheek is tender, though.

Jongwoon turns and nips Heechul’s hand. “Sometimes I’d rather figure things out before I have to be told.”

Heechul huffs. “You’re a sap. Quit thinking so much and get on with it already.”

Still, Jongwoon’s especially careful to let Heechul settle and relax before properly moving. This time, he tries not to lose himself, and considers it half a success when Heechul gets bossy only after they’re fitted against each other tightly enough to white his vision out.

“Move,” Heechul snarls, “why aren’t—”

“Shhh.” Jongwoon kisses the words from his lips and puts his apology in their place. “Something long tonight, right?”

And it’s long, it’s achingly long. His balls are already raging at him when Heechul tries to force him by way of doing something to them that makes Jongwoon’s voice give out, but— no. He drags it out for as long as he can stand it, until Heechul is a limp, soaked line writhing against him, all the fight leached out by the sheer exquisite pain of the delay, until Jongwoon himself is about to _break_.

“Hyung,” he gasps, “hyung, are you close, please—”

Heechul’s eyes refocus onto him in glittering slits, and he smiles very slightly. He trails a hand down his neck and lingers in the wet hollow of Jongwoon’s collarbone. Nails prick his skin. His mouth opens, just a little.

Orgasm crashes through Jongwoon without warning, and he’s left trembling, Heechul’s closed eyes and open expression all he can see.

It’s all he can do to not collapse on top of Heechul. He barely has the presence of mind to get rid of the condom before the unfocused haze cocooning him seduces the rest of his attention away.

It takes a long while for Jongwoon to realize that Heechul is watching him. “Times like these, I can’t help but think ‘Yesung’ suits you to a tee,” Heechul announces, then smirks wickedly. “Can’t tell the fans this now, can I?”

Jongwoon swats at him half-heartedly, flushing. “Are you okay?” he says instead, laying one hand on Heechul’s thigh. Heechul may not answer him, but at least this shows that they’re clear on what Jongwoon means.

Heechul is silent for a long time. “I’ll be fine. Sooner or later.”

“Is there anything I can...?”

“Not really. But,” Heechul tilts his head up and gives him a kiss that makes Jongwoon’s toes curl, “thanks anyway.”

Jongwoon nods, and listens to Heechul roll out of his bed in search of a shower and his own bed. Whatever strings that are pulling at Heechul, Heechul has made it clear that Jongwoon cannot touch. That’s how it’s always worked between the two of them.

He wonders if he feels sad about that, idly considering his mood, and can’t decide if he should be disturbed or resigned when he finds out.


	15. On Standing on the Other Side of the Window [Shindong, PG]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PG. [Various] It’s not easy to understand, but Donghee’s still going to try.

Donghee waits until the rare afternoon where the apartment is empty except for the two of them. It’s not like Donghee particularly wants to know, but it doesn’t seem like he can just blithely ignore it any longer either. “How does this work?” he wonders aloud casually, sprawled out on the couch.

He’s man enough to admit that he doesn’t really dare to ask anybody else.

Sungmin tilts of his head, a calculated gesture not quite reminiscent of his stage persona. “How does what work?”

“This...” Donghee gestures expansively, uncertain as to how to word the happenings delicately, but the expression that crosses Sungmin’s face indicates that he understands. “Yeah.”

“I’m not sure. I don’t even know what to call this.” Sungmin laughs, turning back to the blender, but his disquiet is clear beneath the varnish. “It’s pretty dysfunctional when we stop and think about it.”

Donghee doesn’t ask if they’d ever stopped to think about it for long, or if they ever will.

“Does it... bother you?” Sungmin shifts, turns to lean against the counter to watch Donghee. “I mean, it’s not like most of them – us, I guess – are, um. Quiet.”

“I hear things,” Donghee allows carefully. Things that aren’t actually said, things like how nobody will refuse Hankyung if he asks and how everybody is free to refuse Heechul even if he doesn’t ask, which sounds like the most backwards thing about the two of them ever but actually makes a strange amount of perfect sense. Things like how Donghae is usually willing except for certain days that follow a cycle only Heechul and Hyukjae know with intimate surety, which is even weirder because apparently neither has sex with him at all. Things like Youngwoon’s complexes (which he really, really hadn’t wanted to know about) and Jongwoon’s... he’s not going to think about that.

Things that makes him simultaneously glad he’d taken himself out of the heart of the clusterfuck (so to speak) and regretful that he’s going to be missing out on the experiences that comes with the insight.

Sungmin watches him with black crystal eyes, depthless and brittle.

“It’s not something I’m completely comfortable with,” he says candidly. Sungmin snorts, pulling a grin from Donghee. “Yeah, okay, it’s more than a bit awkward sometimes. But as long as this is kept quiet and nobody’s hurt, I don’t... know what I can do about it?”

“Yeah,” Sungmin says quietly. “Extra prayers, maybe.” He chuckles, wan and tired. “That’s Siwonnie’s solution, at least. And Hyukjae’s.”

Frankly Donghee has no idea how Siwon or Hyukjae are wrapping their respective minds around so many of their bandmates messing about in apparently open, haphazard relationships, but he’s pretty sure he _really_ doesn’t want to know. “Do you regret?” he asks instead, cautiously. “About not refusing to give your consent? Even if you’re not exactly... hm. Active?”

Donghee had declined on his first invitation with a clear indication that he doesn’t want to ever be involved, even in gossip pertaining to the... arrangements. It’d felt kind of unsettling even beyond the screwing-bandmates part; he’d been dating Nari for more than a year by then, and he knows a good woman when he meets one. He’s not about to risk losing her for a bit of fleeting pleasure.

Though, for some of them, this doesn’t seem to be just about fleeting pleasure at all.

Sungmin shrugs. “We all let this happen in the end, didn’t we? All our careers are at stake. Maybe not in equal stakes,” he allows, “but the damage would be pretty big if word got out.”

“Do you think any of them... us...” Man, this conversation is doing terrible things to Donghee’s placement of the dividing line. “...would have stopped if any of us had said no?”

Sungmin rubs his chin. “Maybe the younger ones,” he says at last. “But since when has Heechul-hyung or Youngwoon-hyung listened to us like that? It’s not like Jungsu-hyung would have put his foot down or told the managers or anything.”

“Maybe if he’s Leeteuk when he makes the proclamation.”

Sungmin winces. “I don’t know how Jungsu-hyung delegates for his roles. Let’s not think too hard in that direction.”

“No, no, imagine! He could be like Moses! He can work a decent hokey doomsday voice and fling down stone tablets and everything.”

Sungmin grins reluctantly. “And he could declare us heretics and then look very, very sorry that he’d said it, since he’d be a hypocrite.”

Silence, again, as the blender whirls to life. Donghee can almost feel them both working hard against imagining Jungsu in the arrangement. He’s certainly not the quietest by far.

Sungmin switches the blender off too soon. “What brought this up?”

“I was talking to Zhou Mi.” Donghee frowns. “He’s surprisingly okay with this. Now that Kibum’s been away for so long, I wonder what he thinks of this.”

Sungmin laughs warmly, a counterpoint to the glass clinking on the counter. “Mimi is a great guy. Go ask Kibum!”

“Mmh. You know, why do you think the arrangements are like this? Like... how some people can fuck each other and others not.”

The twitch on Sungmin’s lips is strange. “Well, I chalk it up to different needs in different relationships? I guess?”

“And you think all these different relationships within Super Junior won’t mess us up?”

Sungmin sinks into the couch beside him, handing him a full glass. “I don’t know, but I hope things work out.” He contemplates this. “You know, if the fact that we just compared Jungsu-hyung to Moses doesn’t condemn us to the third ring of hell or something, I think we’ll be okay.”

Donghee laughs despite himself. “Have just a little faith, huh,” he say, sure he sounds like he’s trying to convince himself.

Sungmin smiles crookedly. “Something like that.”

“Cheers to that, then.” They clink glasses. It’s really quite a good smoothie.

At the very least, they all have some good taste for the good things in life.


End file.
